Blessings in Disguise
by Liv Pierce
Summary: At twenty-five, Hermione thinks life is finally settling into something resembling normal. Then she's visited by a ministry owl and her floo lights up. Normal, she decides, may never be in her future.
1. Chapter 1

**Author****'****s Note: The world of Harry Potter belongs solely to JK Rowling. Any characters not appearing in the books written by Ms. Rowling are of my own creation.**

There's a saying in the muggle word that says blessings often come in disguises. If Hermione believed in such things then she might have thought herself incredibly blessed. But she did not believe in such idioms. After all, why would she believe in such things that also put you in between a rock and a hard place or say that two in the hand is worth one in the bush? It was nonsense and Hermione simply didn't believe in nonsense.

Her life would have been a lot easier had she simply believed.

When she was 18 the worst being in the wizarding word was vanquished. She didn't actually see it with her own eyes. She was defending those around her from that worst wizards comrades. But she heard the noises and turned just seconds after it was all over. Those who think life got back to normal quickly after the end of the war were stupid, she thought, resolute in her opinion. How could anyone look at Hogwarts, the symbol for all of wizard kind, and think that life or anything could go back to normal quickly? The old castle was in ruin, walls collapsed, stone missing, statues in rubble; there would be no quick fix, magic or otherwise, for the wizarding world or the school which stood at its center.

But they worked for years, several years, to rebuild the world. New government officials were put into place. A new headmistress, new to the position, but most certainly not new to the school, was appointed. New aurors, new professors, new stone in place of the old. But everything was coated with just a hint of the old, sparks of the good who had fallen in the quest to defeat Voldemort. Just as the new stones were made from transfiguring the dust and rubble of the old. There was one idiom Hermione could get behind: if you forget history, it is doomed to repeat itself. She personally saw to the undertaking of making sure the last two wars were remembered so that a third didn't come about.

It wasn't until nearly five years after Voldemort had been defeated that life seemed to become somewhat normal. Not that Hermione had really known normal since she had started school at Hogwarts. Every year there had been something to keep her from being able to call the school year normal, but she imagined life five years post war was the normal she had been lacking. She had returned to school, when it reopened, and finished her last year at Hogwarts, graduating when she was twenty. She had been offered plenty of positions, but she finally choose a job at the ministry where she felt she could do the most good. She was close to Harry and Ron, in the same building, and that pleased her because even five years later she couldn't stand the idea of being too far away from them. They were connected, the three of them, forever, and she might as well, she decided long ago, not try and fight that. She had a flat, a small one in Diagon Alley. It only had one bedroom, a bathroom, and an open kitchen/living space, but it suited her needs and she bought a large couch that could be suitably used for a spare sleeping spot if the occasion should arise.

And it often did. Harry visited, coming over for dinner after work or for a drink or two when neither of them could sleep, but he more often than not made his way to Ginny. An engagement, everyone suspected, was only a matter of time. Ron, on the other hand, had nightmares still, even five years after the war was over. While everyone in the wizarding world had gone through the war, the three of them were on the front lines from day one and they were the only ones who truly understood. And Ron had always had the most difficult time adjusting to what they had had to do. Even on the run his adjustment was larger than either Harry's or Hermione's, for whatever reason. So he often ended up camped out on Hermione's sofa, comforted by the mere thought of one of his best friends only being a room away. They had tried dating, while the world was rebuilding itself, but for whatever reason, no time, distractions, too good of friends, it just didn't work for the two of them. They had chemistry, but all the wrong kinds, and they agreed, mutually, that they were better off friends.

With that settled between her and Ron, Hermione's life seemed to be working it's way back to settled entirely. She had work, a home, her parents back, her Weasley family, and her friends. She didn't need much more and she was content, day to day, to go about her life. She the thought the upheaval of her life was over, that surprises would be limited to the everyday type, the run-of-the-mill ones that everyone experienced.

Hermione knew, better than most, that she never assume anything. After all, that was another idiom she despised.

It was August, just one month before her twenty-fifth birthday, that she received a ministry owl early one Saturday morning. It was her one day to sleep in—even though she had been told on many occasions that half past eight was not sleeping in—and she grumbled as she rose to open the window for the animal. It swooped in unceremoniously and dropped a scroll on her kitchen table and turned and flew out before Hermione could even offer it one of the treats she kept on her counter for just such occasions. The all business nature of the owl worried Hermione, who was a worrier even in the best of situations, instantly and she stared at the scroll for several long minutes before she even started to move toward the table. Once she had decided she had best at least move away from the window, it was still several more minutes after she had taken a seat at the table before she reached out a hand and lifted the scroll.

Before she could break the seal and read the contents her fireplace roared to life and her shadowed living room glowed green. Only a few people had access to Hermione's flop and she looked up, wondering if it would be Harry, Ron, or another of the Weasley's to come through. The scroll was not forgotten however, and she continued to work a finger at the wax seal as a figure stepped out of her hearth.

"Honey, I'm home," a very clearly two eared Weasley twin called as he walked toward the table.

Hermione wasn't sure if his words were considered an idiom or not, but she decided she didn't like that phrase anymore than all the others.

**Author****'****s Note, part II: So****…****it****'****s been about five years since I****'****ve written a story on here, but I****'****ve been reading a lot recently and I****'****ve decided to make a comeback (if this can even be called a comeback; more like a return). This year is my ten year anniversary of being on ** ** and what better time than now to post a new story? If you like, please review. I****'****m hoping to get another chapter up soon. Thanks all!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author****'****s Note: The world of Harry Potter belongs solely to JK Rowling. Any characters not appearing in the books written by Ms. Rowling are of my own creation.**

"Fred Weasley," Hermione stated, dropping the still unopened scroll to the table and standing, with minimal grace, as the redheaded twin loped his way toward her.

"You say my name as if you didn't just see me two nights ago at the Burrow, darling," he teased. He had reached the table and came to rest both hands on the back of one of her tall chairs. There was clear amusement on the man's face and Hermione's own screwed up in disdain in return.

"I don't know why you're calling me 'honey' and 'darling', Fred, but would you kindly explain?" Hermione was used to Fred and George's jokes, though she still became annoyed on occasion when the jokes went too far. She could laugh and go along with a good time much more easily than she once did, having mellowed as she moved into her mid-twenties, but when she was a target, she still became defensive, as though she were still the fifteen year old prefect, taking her title too seriously and trying to keep all those around her in line.

"I'm supposing you haven't opened that then," Fred said, pointing casually to the scroll that still sat unopened in front of the standing Hermione.

"No," she said shortly, glancing down at the offending parchment. She had been wary of it before, but now, with Fred's sudden appearance and his jokes, she was even more hesitant to even touch the scroll. She cut her eyes up to Fred once more, suspiciously, "What's in it? Is this some joke of yours?"

"Oh, trust me, Hermione, I wish I could take credit for this. Unfortunately, I don't think this is a joke anyone can claim."

"Tell me then, what's on the parchment?"

"You won't believe me," Fred declared, reaching out and lifting the scroll up and offering it to Hermione, "Best you read it for yourself."

Hermione sighed in defeat and snatched the scroll from his freckled hand and slipped her finger hastily under the wax seal. The edge of the paper sliced into her finger in her haste and she cursed under her breath. Her finger found it's way to her mouth, habit of hoping to stem any potential blood, while her other hand continued to open the scroll and her eyes began to scan the words.

"_Ms. Hermione Jean Granger__…__pleased to announce__…__the _Charity Burbage Law_…__to continue the proliferation of magic kind__…__we at the ministry, after much consideration__…__announce that you have been paired__…"_

"Paired?! Paired? What do they mean paired?" Hermione exclaimed aloud as her eyes continued to flick back and forth across the paper. She spoke mostly to herself and though Fred opened his mouth to speak, he closed it quickly, realizing she didn't really expect an answer.

"…_you have been paired with Mr. Fred Weasley__…__in accordance with the _Burbage_ law you will have two months from this date to unite in marriage or surrender your wand__…__from that date__…__one year to produce an heir__…__failure will result in expulsion from the magical world__…"_

Hermione's eyes slowly traveled back up the page and over the top, landing on the man who she was to…was to _marry. _How on earth was that even possible? How could they expect anyone to marry a randomly assigned person? Why did they think this was a good idea? It went in the face of everything that had been fought for not five years before. And how…

"…how could they possibly name this infernal law after a woman who died at the hands of someone trying to force their beliefs on everyone?"

Fred, who had not been privy to Hermione's inner string of questions, laughed coarsely at her words. "Hermione, _that__'__s_ what angers you about this law? I think you may need to look at that letter again."

"Would you just shut it Fred Weasley? I've read the letter, I know what's in it. I know what it says."

"Well, could've fooled me," Fred observed, pulling out the chair he had been leaning against and sitting down. "Focusing on the name and all."

"I'm not _focusing_ on the name, I'm just observing that it seems inherently unfair to name such a controversial law after a woman who can't defend herself or clarify her beliefs. I know she had been heard to say that she thought pureblooded wizards should marry muggle borns or even muggles outright, but it seems to be a ploy to get people to be alright with this manipulation of their lives without putting up a fuss and I, for one, will not be fooled into believing this was a decision made for the good of the wizarding population…"

"Do you always run long at the mouth or is it only when someone tells you must marry?" Fred interrupted, not thinking for a second that his tone was rude, though it clearly was. "That'll be a problem you know. If you talk that much all the time and _I_ talk as much as I do all the time…we'll never get a word in edgewise. And the children! Imagine our children! They'll never shut their mouths." He was grinning, only half serious as he spoke. Behind her words and contemplative face he could see panic in Hermione's eyes and he knew only one way to distract: joke.

"The…the children?" Hermione repeated, her voice wavering slightly and she lowered into her previously abandoned seat. Her paper cut had been long forgotten, though later she would notice the sting later, and she hastily flattened the paper out on the table in front of her to reread the stipulations of the law once more. Yes. There it was, in black ink, _children_. One conceived during the first year of marriage, another conceived during the five years after the birth of the first child. After that any more children would be up to the couple, though large families, it was noted, were encouraged. "We're going to have _children_," Hermione stated the obvious as she looked once more to Fred.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley-to-be, children. Little studious children with wild red hair," he said, clearly having thought of the future children.

"How are you able to joke?" Hermione questioned, the children forgotten for the moment and Fred's demeanor suddenly under her scrutiny.

"Who says I'm joking?" Fred countered, catching Hermione's eyes and staring for a long moment as if he were trying to see right down to her very being.

**Author****'****s note, Part II: Thank you to everyone who has read the first chapter of **_**Blessings in Disguise**_** and to those of you who have generously reviewed.**


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